Keeper of my Secret
by Breath of Air and Soul of Fire
Summary: Originally called There For You. Hermione has a secret she doesn't want anyone to know. The one person who finds out is the one person she didn't want to tell most. But he may be the only one who can help her in her time of need. Set in 7th year.
1. Unable to Take It Anymore

This is my second ever fanfic. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: not mine. This is the only time I'm putting this so pay attention to it now.

Rated for: mentioned rape, beating, self-mutilation, attempted suicide

**Chapter I**

A ray of sunshine snuck through a gap in the faded red curtains and danced across a young woman's face. A bird landed on the windowsill and tweeted. The girl opened her eyes at the sound, as if it was her own personal alarm clock. But she put the pillow over her head and attempted to go back to sleep.

"It's too early," she mumbled to herself. Then she faintly heard a buzzing noise. Removing the pillow from her head, she looked to her real alarm clock. She slammed her hand down on the button and sat up. "Ok, fine. You win."

Swinging her feet over the edge of her bed, she looked at the calendar hanging on her wall. Her expression changed from one of laziness to one of joy. It was August 31st.

"I'm going back to Hogwarts tomorrow," she told the bird on her windowsill. He cocked his head and looked at her. She vaguely wondered if he had understood her.

Hermione Granger was glad to be going back to school for more reasons than one. It was basically the only time she could see her best friends, she wanted to learn even more about the magical world she had only been a part of for six years, but mostly she wanted to get away from—no, it was best not to think about that.

Quickly, she walked into the bathroom next door and jumped into the shower, hoping the cold water would relieve her of her distressing thoughts. As she washed her body, she began to stare at the scars on her forearms. Each one had its own story to tell.

The gash just below her left wrist was from the time she had accidentally burned a hole in the carpet when she was nine, and her father had slapped her so hard he had left a handprint on her face for hours. Then there was the cut on her right arm from when her father had neglected her for days and had deprived her of food, merely because she had forgotten to be home in time to cook dinner. There were more scars, more stories, but Hermione let the cold water pour down her face and did not look at her arms again. She did not want to be reminded.

Ever since her mother had died, her father had taken to drinking to solve his problems. But in supposedly solving his problems, he had created more for his daughter. When he was drunk, he would beat her, sometimes for no reason, and make her go for days on end without food. She wanted so badly to get away from him, and going to Hogwarts was the only time she _could_ get away.

She got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her. She wrung her long brown hair out and shook it to get the water droplets out. Then she grabbed a brush and started bringing it through her hair, making sure to get every tangle and knot. With hair down to her waist, it easily got tangled up.

There was a loud knock on her bedroom door. "Hermione! Open the door!" a loud voice said on the other side.

A look on fear shot across the brunette's features for a moment. She regained control and hurriedly put a bathrobe on. Then she cautiously walked over to the door and opened it slowly.

"Yes?" she whispered.

He didn't answer. He merely banged the door open all the way, nearly squashing Hermione up against the wall. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close to him.

"When do you go back to that school of yours?" he asked. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"T-Tomorrow," she tried her hardest not to stutter, not to show him her fear.

But he must have seen it in her eyes, for he smirked and said, "Awww, no more fun for dad all year. Until Christmas, that is." He laughed a little, as if he had actually said something funny. Hermione gulped. This had happened before.

"What are you wearing this for?" he asked, tugging on her bathrobe. She wrapped her free arm around herself to keep it from falling off.

"Dad, stop please," she said.

"Why?" he asked. Before she could wrench her arm away, he threw her onto her bed and ripped her bathrobe off of her. He ignored her desperate cries and her tears as he descended upon her.

--Some time later--

Hermione cried until she could no longer produce tears. She opened the drawer of her beside-table and pulled out a razor blade. This was, in fact, the exact same razor blade she had used the first time she had ever cut herself, and she had kept it in case she would ever need it again. She had figured then she wouldn't, but she turned out to be wrong. Hopefully, this _would _be the last time she would ever use it.

She held the blade in a tight grip in her right hand. She sniffled a little, thinking of Harry and Ron and Ginny, and how she would never see them again. But she knew what she had to do. Without another second's hesitation, she slid the cool metal across her left wrist and watched the crimson liquid flow.

As she sank into unconsciousness, she wondered how long it would be until anyone found her.


	2. Understanding the Enemy

**Chapter II**

There was no noise at all, save the echoes from footsteps through the hall. Through her closed eyes, Hermione could see a white light ahead of her. She squinted at it, though it was not very bright at all. It was soon blocked out anyway, as someone stood over her.

"Hermione! Oh my goodness, are you all right? What happened?" a scared female voice said to her. Hermione opened her eyes fully and looked at Mrs. Weasley. She smiled a little at her clothing—obviously she was not very experienced at dressing like a Muggle, for she was wearing a denim skirt, plaid socks that went up to her knees, and an ugly pea-green sweater that Hermione could have easily gotten lost in.

"Nice outfit," Hermione teased. Instead of smiling or explaining her clothing of choice, Mrs. Weasley wrapped her arms around Hermione and began to cry.

"Oh dear, we were so worried about you. Ron sent an owl to ask if you wanted to meet us in Diagon Alley later today, and the owl came back with the letter. So we came by Floo powder to investigate and…and…" Her tears stopped her next words.

A redheaded girl walked into the room with her head hung. She looked up and saw Hermione awake, and her face brightened. "Hey, guys, Hermione's awake!" she yelled down the hall. Almost immediately, running footsteps were heard and two boys walked in. All three ran to Hermione's side.

"Hermione! What the bloody hell happened?" Ron asked.

"Ron, watch your language!" Mrs. Weasley said sternly, but seemed to forgive him due to the situation.

"I…I was cutting something and I slipped and cut my wrist on accident," Hermione lied. She didn't want to straight up tell them that she cut herself because her father beat and raped her.

"What a crock of…"

"RON!"

The doctor came in then, with a clipboard in his hand. He looked over Hermione. "You'll have to stay here for a few more days, not because you're incapable of getting up and about, but because we want to keep an eye on you and make sure you don't try this again." (A/N: I don't think they'd only keep you in the hospital for a few days after you attempt suicide, but let's pretend, shall we? After all, she does have to get to Hogwarts eventually.)

"Try what?" Harry and Ginny asked in unison.

Hermione didn't answer. She merely turned her head away from them to indicate she didn't want to talk about it.

"Ok, children, let's go get something to eat and let Hermione have some rest. Hermione, dear, we'll be back later," Mrs. Weasley said, ushering the three out of the room. With one last look at the brunette laying on the hospital bed, she left.

--After Hermione's had some sleep--

She opened her eyes when someone knocked on the door. She looked up and saw the one person she least expected to be there. Hell, she didn't even expect him to come at all.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked nastily.

"I just came to see if what they said was true. So, the Mudblood really did try to kill herself," he replied.

"Call me a Mudblood again and I'll hex you right here and now." Both teens knew it was an empty threat; Hermione couldn't get to her wand if she wanted to. "And how do you know I tried to kill myself?"

"Oh, come of it, isn't it obvious?" Malfoy asked. "You have your wrist slit, with a razor laying right next to you, and that load of crap story you told Potty and Weasel was just plain stupid."

"What, do you listen in on my conversations? Stop calling my friends that. And how did you know all that?"

"Sometimes, no, and I talked to the nurse. She told me your dad had confessed to raping you and beating you and neglecting you, while he was drunk, of course. He's in jail."

"And our of curiosity, how long have I been here?" Hermione asked, knowing she should've asked this before when her friends were in the room.

"Three or four days, I think," Malfoy said. "This is the first time I've come, but loads of other people have come to visit you already, so I've heard."

"What about Hogwarts? Did they excuse me for not being there? Did…"

Malfoy put his hand over Hermione's mouth to stop the words from escaping. "Slow down on the questions. Yes, Dumbledore knows you're here, and he's delayed the term until two weeks from now so as not to let you miss a single thing. He hasn't told the rest of the school, but about half the Gryffindors know through Potter and the Weasleys. No one else, except for me, of course, knows."

"Oh," Hermione said quietly.

Malfoy looked down and happened to notice the scars on Hermione's arms. "Why did you do that?" he asked.

Hermione felt weird talking about this with him, but decided she needed to get this off her chest badly. "I started cutting a few weeks before my ninth birthday. My mum had just died a couple months before, and my dad was so upset he started drinking. Then he started beating me for no reason or for stupid reasons, and just as Dad drank to solve his problems, I cut to solve mine. Then one day it just got to be too much. So I did this." She gestured to the scar on her wrist, where there was a bandage and no doubt stitches underneath.

"I sort of know how you feel," Malfoy admitted. "My father went to Azkaban, and may I say thank God for that, and my mother is dead. (A/N: Again, let's pretend.) I'll show you something, but only if you promise not to tell a soul, because if you do, I'll use the Cruciatus Curse on you." He rolled up the sleeve of his long-sleeved shirt to up past his elbow, and Hermione could see small scars running up and down along the length of it.

"When did you start?" Hermione couldn't seem to keep her eyes off of Malfoy's scars. To know that someone who was so completely different from her and had something in common with her as well, was weird.

"About a year ago, so you've more experience, I'd say." He rolled the sleeve back down.

"Oh," Hermione said again. She looked at her own arm.

An awkward silence followed, neither really wanting to be the first to say anything. Finally, it was Hermione who broke the silence.

"Did…I mean," she started. "Did we just have a civil conversation?"

"I think we did," Malfoy said in a mock shocked voice. "Don't tell anyone."

Hermione smiled. It was the first time that she had ever smiled because of something he had said. "I won't," she pretended to promise.

Just then, Harry and Ron walked in.

"What are _you _doing here?" Harry said, and Hermione could see the anger in his eyes.

"I have just as many visiting rights as you," Malfoy snapped, then stood up. They had a sort of staring contest, with neither backing down.

"I swear, if I find out you've poisoned her or something, I'll kill you using my own bare hands," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Malfoy merely snorted a little and strode from the room. Ron watched him go, making sure he was really leaving. "Hermione, you ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine. We were just talking," she answered.

"About what?"

"Just stuff," she said. She knew Malfoy's secret, and he knew hers, and for a while she wanted to keep it that way.


	3. Telling the Truth?

**Chapter III**

It was September 15th, six days since Hermione had been released from the hospital. She still wouldn't explain to her friends the truth about why she had been placed in the hospital anyway.

Because of her father being in jail now, she stayed at the Burrow for the remainder of time before the term began. Every day she spent time with Harry and Ron and Ginny, ate delicious dinners prepared by Mrs. Weasley, talked about Muggle things with Mr. Weasley ("Just how does this VCR thingy work without magic?"), and was even taught how to play Quidditch by Fred and George. Eventually, though, the night before the return to Hogwarts came.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were making sure they had everything they needed for the next day. Well, technically, Mrs. Weasley was making sure they had everything.

"Ron, do you have all your books?"

"Yes."

"Ginny, you packed enough socks?"

"More than enough, Mum."

"Harry, do…"

"I have everything, Mrs. Weasley," he said before she could finish.

Mrs. Weasley smiled apologetically at the raven-haired boy and the two redheads, and turned her attention to the brunette. "Hermione, are you sure you're ok?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She was fingering one of the scars on her arm. She had told Mrs. Weasley about her cutting, but not for what reason. She still was not ready to disclose that information.

"You know, if you have any problems while you're at Hogwarts, you send me an owl straight away. And if you want to come here to celebrate Christmas, you can. And you're welcome to spend next summer here as well."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said.

"Oh, by the way, your letter says you've been made Head Girl of Hogwarts. Congratulations," the older woman said, giving the younger one a hug. Hermione smiled.

"Thanks again. Does it say who has been made Head Boy?"

Mrs. Weasley looked over the letter again. "Sorry, dear, no it doesn't," she replied. "But you'll find out tomorrow, won't you? Now, all of you, into bed, it's late."

Four groans were heard from four different teens, but they nevertheless went up the stairs, though quite reluctantly. Hermione went into the room she shared with Ginny, lay down, and slept fitfully through the night.

--The next day, on the Hogwarts Express--

Hermione followed Harry, Ron and Ginny into a compartment already occupied by Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnegan. They talked and laughed for a little while until a second year Gryffindor girl walked into the compartment as well.

"Here you are, Hermione," she said. "You have to go to the Head compartment now."

Hermione nodded, and told the others she would catch up with them at Hogwarts.

She followed the second year out of the compartment and into the next one. There were a few Slytherins in this one, who were all whispering behind their hands and pointing at her. Hermione wondered curiously about this, but didn't say anything about it. That is, until it happened in every compartment she passed through.

'_What the bloody hell is going on?' _she thought. She made her way into the Head compartment. It was occupied by only one other, and when she saw who it was, it was clear why everyone had been talking about her.

"I trusted you!" she yelled at Malfoy. He looked up at her.

"What?" he said, looking genuinely surprised, though Hermione could not be so sure.

"You told everyone, didn't you?" She got closer to him and pulled him up by the front of his shirt so she could stare him in the eye. "Didn't you?"

"Told everyone what?" he said.

Hermione looked around her suspiciously, as if people in the next compartment had their ears pressed against the glass to hear better. "That I cut and that my father raped me," she whispered.

"Oh, that," he replied. "No, I didn't."

"Then who did?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Then why was everyone just talking about me?"

"How do you know they were talking about you?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but shut it again as she realized..._maybe they weren't talking about her. _But it was a big maybe.

"Good point," she said quietly. She let go of Malfoy's shirt and sat down across from him. Malfoy took out a book and a quill pen and began to write something.

"What are you writing?" Hermione asked curiously.

"None of your business," Malfoy said quickly and nastily.

"Fine," Hermione said, turning her head. They didn't say a word to each other the whole rest of the ride.

--After the Hogwarts Express has stopped, and everyone is just now getting off--

Hermione made her way towards the back of the train. She was searching for Harry and Ron, but couldn't see her way past everyone in the crowd. She settled for just staying where she was and letting them find her.

She didn't have long to wait. About a minute later, Hermione could see a mop of red hair running towards her. Soon in front of her were an out-of-breath Ron, a half-asleep Harry, and an angry Ginny.

"Why did you just leave me there to get all your stuff?" she yelled at Ron. "You have hands too, you know."

"Sod off, Ginny," he said. "Word on the train is Malfoy's Head Boy. So, did you hex him?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't want to be expelled before we even get back."

"She has a point," Harry agreed.

The four, who were soon joined by Neville and Seamus, walked up to the carriages that would take them the rest of the way to the school. Without the crowd of people standing there, Hermione noticed a small black book with a silver snake on the front of it. It looked like someone's journal. (A/N: and like we don't know whose it is already.)

Hermione picked it up and looked on the inside cover. There was no name. She decided if she wanted to find out who the owner was, she'd have to read it, though she knew it was wrong.

--In Gryffindor Tower--

Hermione went into the 7th year girls' dormitory. She sprawled out on the bed and sighed, happy to be back at Hogwarts, back with her friends, back where she could use magic, and happy to be away from the asshole who had made her life a living hell. She remembered the journal and took it out of her bag, rolled over onto her stomach, opened it to a page, and began to read.

**_September 4th_**

_**I visited Granger in the hospital today. I'm not even sure why. I guess it's just because I wanted to see her in pain. But is that really the reason?**_

_**I guess I don't know. All I know is, she told me her secret, and not her friends. I sort of feel special, I guess. I told her my secret as well, and she promised not to tell a soul, as did I about hers. **_

**_But why shouldn't I tell somebody? I mean, it is a Malfoy's job to keep the Mudblood and half-breeds out of the magical world, so says my father. So why don't I tell, ruin Ms. Perfect's reputation? Because if I tell, she'll tell, that's why._**

**_So for now, I will keep her secret just that—a secret. Until the time comes when she wants to reveal it herself. I wonder what her friends will think of her. _**

_**Draco Malfoy**_


	4. More Thoughts From Malfoy's Journal

**Chapter IV**

Hermione looked at the name scribbled on the bottom of the page. She had had this gut feeling it was his, but when she read what was written, she somehow felt as if it wasn't. It just didn't seem like anything Draco Malfoy would write.

She decided to see what else was written about her. There was nothing else, until she came to the last page with writing.

**_September 16th_**

_**Granger is Head Girl. Big surprise. I had no doubt she would be, after all, she is the smartest witch in the school. It is not a compliment—there is just no denying it. **_

_**Why does she think I told her secret? Does she think I want people talking about me, too? I best watch my back. She still has her suspicions about me, I bet, and may just tell, even though I was not the one to blab about her. **_

_**I will admit something, she is looking much prettier this year. If anyone finds this, I will deny I ever said that. **_

Hermione realized that this was what he had been writing on the Hogwarts Express. It made her blush a little, but she kept reading. There was nothing else about her, just plans for getting back at Harry and Ron, which she would tell them about, of course.

She closed the journal, grabbed a scrap piece of parchment, and wrote three short words on it—_I believe you. _She opened the book again and placed the parchment between the pages of the last entry and slammed the book shut again. She put it in the pocket of her robes and went downstairs for dinner.

--At dinner--

"That little git!" Ron yelled. Hermione had just told him how Malfoy was going to ruin their year. "We'll so get back at him if he does anything."

"How did you find out all of this, Hermione?" Harry asked.

Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out the black book. "This," she said, holding it out for them to see, "is Draco Malfoy's journal. I read about it in here."

"Whoa," Ron said, trying to grab it. "What else does it say?"

"Nothing," Hermione replied quickly—a little too quickly, in fact, for it made Harry and Ron give her confused expressions.

"Come on, 'Mione, it can't be that bad," Harry said, also attempting to get the journal from Hermione. She put it back in her pocket and gave them a look, as if daring them to try and get it now.

"There is nothing else in there for you to know. It is impolite to read someone else's journal."

"But you read it," Harry pointed out.

Hermione was speechless for a moment. "That's different," she said. "I was just trying to figure out who it belonged to."

"And what about in second year, when Harry read Tom Riddle's journal?" Ron asked. "If he hadn't, who knows what might have happened?"

"Anyway, I'm giving it back , and you're not going to read it, so there," Hermione said with superiority.

"Damn," Ron muttered under his breath. Hermione still heard it, and whacked him on the head for no apparent reason.

--After dinner--

Hermione waited until most of the students had left the Great Hall. Soon only she, Malfoy, a Hufflepuff second year, and a group of Ravenclaw fourth years were still there. When Malfoy started to leave, she hurried to catch up to him.

"Malfoy," she said, and he turned around.

"What do you want, Granger?" he asked.

"Here," she said, giving him back the journal. "You dropped this on the train."

"Oh," he said, grabbing it quickly and shoving it in his pocket. "You didn't read it, did you?"

Hermione didn't answer. She was already running up the stairs to the common room, leaving Malfoy to wonder if she had.

--In the Slytherin common room--

Malfoy flipped through his journal for any signs that Hermione might have read what was written. He stopped when he saw the parchment she had left there. _I believe you. _She knew he hadn't told.

He got his quill pen and opened to a fresh page.

**_Still September 16th_**

_**Granger found this and read what I wrote about her. Damn, now she may know how I feel about her. **_

_**She says she believes that I didn't tell anyone. However, there is still the fact of who did. I'm positive I'm the only one who knows, but someone may have heard outside the hospital room that one day. It is a possibility. I hope she knows I would never, EVER do that to her. **_

_**Maybe I'll just give up being mean to her and try to be friends, even if it means I have to be friends with those idiots she hangs out with. But how can I earn her complete trust? She doesn't trust me that much yet, the only reason she knows I won't tell her secret is because she knows mine. It's almost like blackmail. I know, I can earn her trust by helping her figure out who blabbed about her. Will that work? I don't know, but I'll find out.**_

_**Draco Malfoy**_

--In the library--

Malfoy found Hermione sitting at a table in the corner, her nose buried in a book at least 4 inches thick. He walked right up to her. If he hadn't tapped her on the shoulder to announce his presence, he might have stayed there for a while before she noticed he was even there.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I, uh, found what you wrote in my journal," he said hesitantly. "And I want you to know, that if you need any help on figuring out who told on you, I'll be happy to help."

"Thanks, Malfoy," Hermione said. They shared a smiled for a moment.

"Mind if I sit down?" Malfoy asked. Hermione shook her head.

He sat down, and they talked about who could possibly have known about her secret at all. She admitted to telling Mrs. Weasley about it, but knew she couldn't have told her secret to everyone on the train, and besides, she was far too nice to do anything like that.

"What if someone heard us outside the hospital room?" Malfoy suggested.

Hermione thought this over. "I suppose it's logical," she replied. "But who could have been listening?"

"I could have, for one," said a voice from behind a bookshelf. Hermione spun around and looked in the direction the voice had come from. When she saw who it was…

"You?"

---

Yay! I updated twice in one day. Aren't you proud of me? Random points to anyone who can review and tell me who Hermione saw.


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